Siren (29 page)

Mr Arslan Gosulja had been missing for just over two weeks, and appeared to have been dead nearly that long. Sheltered from the elements, his body’s decomposition had not been rapid, but had clearly taken hold. The once slender physique had ballooned to the shape of the box, and the deep black-purple discolouration of post-mortem lividity was evident along all the lower extremities, strongly suggesting that he had died in this position, trapped in the box.

Dr Auguste could not help but imagine his final days. Within the first twenty-four hours the man would have felt a desperate hunger and thirst, and increasingly unbearable pain in his muscles and joints. Delirium would surely have set in early. He would have experienced giddiness and hallucinations. His tongue had split open from dehydration. As he neared death, his eyelids likely would no longer close, and he would have spied the dark world around him through the holes in his box, helpless. There would have been little else for him to do in the hours leading to his death than watch his mother, the notorious and disgraced actress Bijou, while she went about her routine, covering her grief and bewilderment in an alluring layer of powder and perfume and jewellery, believing her son to have abandoned her. Terribly distraught, she had called the police when she became aware of the terrible smell in her bedroom.

The assistants manipulated the deceased across the table, laying the remains flat. Removed from its deadly container, the body moved easily, rigor mortis having long since passed. Had this man expired from dehydration, a form of positional asphyxia, or death due to one of the complications of prolonged immobility, such as a pulmonary embolism or the pressure effects on skeletal muscle? It might prove difficult to determine.

‘
Passez le scalpel
,’ Dr Auguste ordered.

The case, which became famous once Bijou’s scandalous relationship was leaked to the papers, was one of the strangest in Dr Auguste’s illustrious career. He later sought out and purchased a handsome out-of-print book on the subject of contortion and
entérologie—
or ‘packanatomicalisation’ as it was sometimes called in English—and it sat on the shelf of his office for many years.

He never did find the time to read the text, nor did he again come across a case involving such strange practices, but whenever a visitor noticed the book he retold the story of the curious man in the box. Of all the confounding aspects of the case, the single question that continued to trouble Dr Auguste was this: having voluntarily placed himself in the box, why had this Arslan Gosulja not cried out to his mother for help once he had become trapped and recognised the seriousness of his position? His death would have been agonising. And he had been just a heartbeat from her for days.

Silently watching.

THE END

I conceived of writing about my fictional troupe, Le Théâtre des Horreurs, after watching a documentary about Paris in the 1920s, a time when the Grand Guignol was patronised by the likes of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller. Sadly, I discovered that the theatre at 7 Cité Chaptal, though still standing, bears little resemblance to the notorious venue of the Grand Guignol, which performed ‘naturalistic’ horror plays there from 1897 to 1962. Investigating the tiny theatre in Paris (at the time of writing it was the International Visual Theatre, staging plays for the hearing impaired), I was saddened to find the original interiors gone, including the oft-written-about carved angels left over from its earliest days as a chapel, and no reference to the theatre’s incredible past except for a little plaque on the corner of Cité Chaptal and Rue Chaptal making mention of its once notorious and yet seemingly near forgotten past. In this novel I have taken literary licence by restoring the venue to the splendour of its heyday, angels and all—my homage to what once was.

It can be very difficult to be close to a writer finishing a novel. I would be truly remiss not to acknowledge my friends and family, and thank them yet again for the incredible patience they have shown in supporting my writing, particularly over the three years it took me to complete
Siren
. I would also like to thank HarperCollins
Publishers
Australia, and particularly Linda Funnell, for the ongoing support of my work. Thank you so much for believing in me. Thank you also to Bolinda Audio, who, like HarperCollins Australia, have been there with me since my first novel was published in 1999. And thank you also to the readers and publishers around the world who allow me to do what I love for a living.

I have the good fortune of having the most wonderful literary agent, Selwa Anthony. Thank you for your guidance and friendship from day one, and for making my dreams of becoming a published writer come true. Thank you also to Mitch Kaplan and KSGB Literary Agency in Los Angeles for the support and belief in me. Big thanks also go to Michael Schenker and Rob Dorfmann at 2 Roads Pictures, Craig Schneider of Pinnacle PR, Martin Walsh and Chadwick Management, Saxtons, Sisters in Crime, Karen Phillips, Di Rolle, magician Adam Mada, contortionist Arslan Gusengadzhiev of
Zumanity
(who is nothing like the twisted Arslan character in
Siren
, despite the name), SWAT leader Doug Martin for correcting my ‘mash’, ‘Big’ John McCarthy for choking me unconscious for Makedde’s Catacombs scene, and West EFX for literally setting me on fire for research for my farmhouse scene. I was gratefully unsinged. I am also grateful for the assistance of Chief Forensic Pathologist Dr Jo Duflou, forensic polygraph examiner Steven Van Aperen, Carl Donadio of Once Blue, Tony Zalewski and the Australian Institute of Public Safety, and Mike Evans and the Australian Security Academy where I completed my Certificate III in Investigative Services in 2008.

I would like to acknowledge French writer Maurice Level, author of
Le Baiser dans la nuit
, translated as
The Final Kiss
, and first performed at Le Theatre du Grand-Guignol in 1912, and the invaluable book on the Grand Guignol,
Grand-Guignol: The French Theatre of Horror
, by Richard J. Hand and Michael Wilson, University of Exeter Press, 2002. The fragments of play dialogue I’ve used were adapted from translations in this book. I would also like to acknowledge American writer Jack Kerouac and his novel
On The Road
, quoted in this book.

And to my gloriously patient friends Alison, Gloria, Mindy, Liz, Amelia, Desi and Robert, Manual, Tracey, Misty and Alice, Nafisa, Lionheart, Joel, Erica and Stephen, Linda (Miss J Forever), lovely Hugh for the quote, the Literary Salon crew, the Hillbillies and the Poets, and especially Berndt, Dorothy, Nik and Annelies. I thank each of you for showing support and for being there for me in your own way during these recent roller-coaster years. I love you all.

To Dad, Lou, Jackie, Dave, all the Moss, Carlson, Bosch, Hooft, Hartman and Sellheim clans—love.

Mum, I never forget you.

Tara is the author of four bestselling crime novels published in sixteen countries in ten languages. Writing has been a lifelong passion for her; she began penning gruesome ‘Stephen King-inspired’ stories for her classmates when she was only ten. Tara enjoyed a successful international career as a fashion model before pursuing professional writing, first earning a Diploma from the Australian College of Journalism. She began writing her debut novel,
Fetish,
when she was just twenty-three. Her crime novels have been nominated for the Davitt and the Ned Kelly awards. She has a star on the Australian Walk of Fame: the first person so inducted for services to literature.

Not a writer to rely solely on imagination, she has toured the FBI Academy at Quantico, spent time in squad cars, morgues, prisons, labs, the Supreme Court and criminology conferences world-wide, taken polygraph tests, shot weapons, conducted surveillance, flown with the RAAF, and acquired her CAMS race driver licence. Tara recently earned her PI licence, and was set on fire by Hollywood stunt company West EFX and choked unconscious by Ultimate Fighter ‘Big’ John McCarthy for her research.

Born in Victoria, BC, Tara is a proud dual Australian/ Canadian citizen, and divides her time between Sydney, Los Angeles and her hometown in Canada. She is a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador, as well as an ambassador for the YWCA and the Royal Institute for Deaf and Blind Children.

Visit taramoss.com

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